


In the Dim Light

by KamalasFanfiction



Series: Safety and Home [2]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Arab Character, F/F, Falling In Love, Fantasizing, Female Character of Color, Friends to Lovers, Interspecies Relationship(s), Intimacy, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Standard Female Ryder, POV Third Person, Pining, Universal Translator, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-19 08:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10636332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KamalasFanfiction/pseuds/KamalasFanfiction
Summary: “I just... I have a surprise for you. I thought you might like it as soon as possible.”“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Vetra tries for playful, but her voice cracks into something genuine, and she hesitates, bouncing slightly on her heels. “Would you like to... come in?”Maryam Ryder got a hold of something Vetra's been on the lookout for a long time- though, really, she could've picked a better time to give it to her. Vetra rapidly realizes her feelings for the Pathfinder aren't so platonic.There's an ugly lamp involved.





	1. Chapter 1

The lock on her door releases, and Vetra’s heart leaps into her throat, jumping to her feet and dismissing the article she’d been reading on her omni-tool. “Drack,” She starts, agitation creeping into her voice. It was far too late in the evening for some casual visit, and she’d just slipped into a fuzzy robe- which was the least presentable anyone wanted to be when someone came in with what could only be trouble. “It’s too late for me to help you out of whatever nonsense you-”

She rounds the corner and, instead of seeing krogan bulk in the silhouette of her doorframe, she sees a rounded human figure. She blinks a few times, then reaches up to hit the switch on her visor, focusing her vision until she could make out distinct features. It’s a bad habit, but she takes the figure in from the bottom to the top, working up from strong calves to thick thighs, up strong arms and a wide chest. When she finishes on the eyes (deep brown like the chocolate she used to smuggle Sid when they were younger), she confirms that it’s the only other person with the access-key to her room: Maryam Ryder.

Her arm is crooked behind her, and the only light reflecting on her features is coming from the dimmed light in Vetra’s room- it casts shadows across her features, makes her seem so much more defined. Her lips part and move, and Vetra misses what she says the first time around because she’s simply caught up in imagining the texture of them- the strange curve of her brown upper lip forms two soft arches, like the top of the cartoon ‘hearts’ Vetra often saw on human product commercials.

“Vetra,” Ryder says, so softly, and Vetra snaps into focus, feels her breath catch unevenly- realizing her surroundings. Her room is messy, completely disorganized, a box of cereal on its side, and Vetra’s out of her armor- even worse, practically naked under the robe save for the thin underwear over her pelvis. It was one thing to be this exposed in front of Drack, who had seen her in worse positions, and another to be this exposed in front of Ryder, who had only ever seen her at her best. Ryder either doesn’t notice, or blatantly ignore the fact that her talons are clicking together, the thin skin of her neck tinting blue. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Ryder.” The nervousness must show in her subharmonics. “I, er, wasn’t expecting company. This is-” Haltingly, and it’s difficult to get out the words without sounding young and stupid and flustered. Vetra Nyx isn’t one for being caught off-guard, and she would’ve definitely preferred this exchange in what constituted as ‘morning’ in this expansive galaxy, after she’d collected herself and thought up a few witty one-liners to quip back at Ryder.

“I know, I know.” She has a sly smile on her face, which is different than the usual serious set of her lips. Vetra’s eyes dart around the rest of her figure, trying to pick up more body language cues- it was rare that the Pathfinder wore a smile, and even rarer that she looked even remotely _sneaky_. She was by far one of the most transparent individuals on the ship, and tended to get to the point when talking, no edging around a subject. “I just... I have a surprise for you. I thought you might like it as soon as possible.”

“For me? You shouldn’t have.” Vetra tries for playful, but her voice cracks into something genuine, and she hesitates, bouncing slightly on her heels. “Would you like to... come in?” She’s not sure how appropriate it is to let her in, but there doesn’t seem to be any other option, so she extends one arm out like she’s seen in the movies.

“Oh! Yes, that would... That would probably be better than in the hall.” The smile goes less lopsided, and Ryder bites her lip, and there’s a sound Vetra is completely sure is a giggle. A very small, choked-down giggle, but the sound makes her head reel. “You have to go in first, though- for the surprise.”

“Giving me orders in my own space, now, Ryder?” There was another half to the quip, but she lost it when Ryder raises one eyebrow and she realizes the possible other meaning to it. If she hadn’t noticed Vetra blushing before, she had to have now, with how hot her neck feels. “Right, um.” She turns around carefully, afraid the robe might ride up if she moved too quickly, and pulls it a bit tighter on her chest. Her torso wasn’t plated at the waist, and she wondered in abject horror if Ryder had seen it.

When Ryder steps into her room (when Vetra had turned, she’d also discreetly kicked an open box of cereal under her bed), it somehow changes the mood of it all- Vetra puts her room under scrutiny, as if she could change it in the two seconds that she’d stepped into it. Even her bed is a mess of cushions (meant to support her carapace and keep it from digging into her softer bits) and blankets (because the Tempest blasted the air conditioner halfway through the ‘night’, so that the asari onboard could get a fitful rest- the turians and the salarians were the only ones that were really affected, but had been compensated with an obnoxious amount of blankets). “Again, I really wasn’t expecting company- if you’d like to come back later, it’d be neater and I would...” She trails off, her mandibles hitting the sides of her mouth sharply in embarassment. “I’d be in a better state of dress.”

She blinks like she hadn’t even noticed the turian in front of her was in a pink, frilly robe. Vetra wonders if Ryder’s somewhat dizzy from exhaustion- while her sleep-cycle was considerably shorter and later in the night, the humans had all gone to bed hours ago and, with her busy schedule, she deserved the rest more than anyone. The playfulness drops and, tragically, so does her smile- she becomes the firm but understanding leader she was by day. “I’m sorry, I suppose I just got too excited- I don’t mind your room being a little on the messy side.” The worst part is that she does look genuinely apologetic, wide-eyes and a soft frown. “I didn’t even realize you were... I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries- if you’re uncomfortable, I can-”

Vetra interrupts her, quickly. “It’s fine, Ryder- if you don’t mind the state of my room, you’re free to stay-” Her subharmonics rumble slightly, as if clearing her throat. “If you wouldn’t mind my changing into... Actual clothes.”

“I wouldn’t!” Her response is immediate, firm, and her eyes dart around, looking for something. They find her closet and, nodding once to herself, she quickly turns around in a way that doesn’t reveal whatever was behind her back. Vetra notices that she’s in casual wear, which is something she wasn’t even sure Ryder _owned_ \- unfamiliar, loose-fit pants that pulled tight at the ankle and a shirt with belled sleeves and a neckline that reminded her of the turian numeral system. “You can change, I won’t turn around.” She promises, and nods again. Vetra watches the display with an amused tilt of her head- there was something so genuine to it that, yes, the Pathfinder might be slightly out of it. She leans over Ryder’s shoulder, feeling the warmth radiating off of her skin for only the briefest of moments, and hits the code to close and lock her door.

“Alright, going to change now.” She announces, feeling silly for doing so. She’s fast to move to the closet- now that the threat of accidentally flashing the Pathfinder was being handled, she found herself wondering what she could’ve brought her. Her mind flashes through possibilities- anything from dextro chocolate to a new gun she thought was well-suited for Vetra. She loved that- how involved Ryder got when it came to the team’s wellbeing and the upkeep of their weapons. She was the same type of older sister that Vetra was, which endlessly amused Peebee and Liam- though slightly less constricting, she always had extra rations packed in levo and dextro quantities, blankets or hand-fans depending on the planet, and an extra clip of bullets for just about anyone’s gun.

When they’d first met, Vetra had wondered if that was what she liked so much about her- their similarities. It felt nice to be taken care of from time to time, to let herself relax and trust in where Ryder pointed her- and Ryder always made sure she pointed her somewhere safe. Even if it came to harming her own self, she’d make sure Vetra (durable, carapace-covered, _grown_ Vetra) would come out without a scratch. Jaal had even made light of it in a casual conversation between the three of them, chastising her lightly, “You throw yourself in danger to guard us, when we are larger and sturdier than you are. Please, for our peace of mind, pay attention to your own safety.”

And she had laughed, soft and without humor. “Oh, Jaal, you don’t realize- I am paying attention to my own safety.” She’d sent a devastating curl of biotic energy over his shoulder, then- hitting an attacker neither she nor Jaal had noticed. “You are all very important to me- if you got hurt when I could prevent it, I don’t know what I’d do.” It was an incredibly human thing to say, upon retrospect- they’d earned themselves a reputation of completely overriding their self-preservation when it came to those they were in charge of, and yet...

And yet, Vetra had stood there, mandibles slack and mouth open, surprised at the amount of conviction in her voice. There was the difference that made them both individuals- when Vetra said she wouldn’t know what she’d do if she lost Sid, she meant it. She’d be lost herself, collapse inwards- it was hard to define herself when she wasn’t being a provider. When Maryam Ryder said she wouldn’t know what she’d do if she lost someone on the team, it sounded like a terrifying promise to whoever had caused them harm. It sounded like she would never let anything harm them.

She was rather tall for a human female, but still a head or two shorter than Vetra, but _Spirits_ would she give anything to be held in her arms- how protected and secure she would feel, how comforted.

Her idle thoughts are derailed when she realizes she’s fully dressed herself and not signaled to Ryder. She’s still not as comfortable as she would be in, say, her body armor, but she takes some comfort in that Ryder knows shit about turian fashion and wouldn’t know that the tight-fitting white and blue suit was a little too young for her. She’d bought it at Sid’s cheers, telling her how good it looked on her, the little jokes about it being ‘something to bring home the suitors’. “I’m done.” She calls out, thinking about the irony in it, now that the only person who she’s interested in is a human who just saw her in a fuzzy robe.

When Ryder turns around, her ponytail bobs- Vetra wonders what her hair would look like down, somehow taking the evolutionary reach to find the concept of long hair attractive. She’d like to pick through it like she would another turian’s fringe- she’s not so sure if it’s a _human_ bonding thing, but she’d heard her mention how long it took to brush it all once, and the idea had stuck. Just out of her line of sight, Vetra sees something blue in her hands. “Okay.” She says, definitively- she looks like she’s about to lead into whatever the surprise was, but she stops again, looking at her outfit. “Nothing was wrong with the robe, but that’s a really cute outfit, Vetra.”

“Thank you- I’ll have to let Sid know she has good taste.” That got another smile out of her, at least. Vetra’s mandibles flare quickly to match. “So, the surprise...?”

“Right- okay, Vetra Nyx, you’re gonna want to sit down for this one.” She’d never seen her so excitable- it was thrilling in its own right to hear what Vetra assumed was her native accent slip out, the language she was speaking no longer Standard, filtering differently through the translators. She takes her advice, moving back to where she was standing- a little ways off from where she had a table and chairs. She seats herself, facing Ryder and crossing her ankles. “Now, close your eyes!”

Vetra indulges her, tilting her head up and closing her eyes. The theatrics of it all made her heart push faster- the fact that Ryder seemed to have put so much thought into the presentation was a gift on its own. “They’re closed.” She jokes, knowing that her eyes are somewhat obscured by the same visor she needs to see in detail.

There’s a rush of air, and the sound of porcelain rubbing on skin. “Look!” And Maryam Ryder, the Pathfinder, the most important person on the ship, is holding her naked asari lamp in her fist, the electrical cord wrapped around her forearm. She offers it to Vetra, obviously excited, and her grin was probably brighter than the low-wattage lamp she was holding onto.

Vetra is robbed of all words. She just looks at it, eyes blown wide, fairly certain her mandibles have flown open because she can’t really feel them right now. Holy shit, Ryder really is holding her shitty lamp. Holy shit that’s. That’s her lamp. “Ryder.” She says, because she’s not sure what to say, her voice full of emotion and what she’s fairly sure is adoration. Emotions are complicated. ‘Thank you’ definitely sounds like she’s selling the emotion short. Spirits, she doesn’t know how much it means to her, that Ryder went out on her own to find this ugly lamp, that this is what she was so excited to show Vetra that she showed up at two in the morning, standardized time.

“Oh, Vetra, it wasn’t so hard to find.” It takes her one horrified second to realize she’d said all of that out loud, but Ryder steps forward and, since she was sitting, she can easily make eye contact. She sets the lamp down on the table, uncoils the wire from her arm. “You know I care about you- you really wanted this lamp, so I knew I had to do whatever I could to find it for you. Didn’t matter what it took.” She’s not sure if it’s a platonic gesture to humans, but she reaches out and touches the side of Vetra’s face, smoothing along her facial plates. “And you don’t have to be formal when it’s just you and me- call me Maryam.”

Suddenly, the room feels very small and very hot- turians can’t faint, she knows, but she’s pretty sure she’s feeling the distant turian equivalent to feeling faint. She’s rumbling, untranslatable as it meant nothing other than happiness and had no real word equivalent. “Maryam.” Vetra tries the name on her tongue and likes how it rests- it’s almost turian in the same way that Maryam had said Sid’s full name was actually a human name if they took away the ‘e’. It feels natural to call her name. “I’m... Maryam, I don’t know what to say. This is honestly...” She’s not sure her mandibles will ever rest properly again. They’ll probably be stuck like this, flared, showing everyone and their elder that Vetra Nyx is a giant sap that’s weak for gifts from pretty human girls. “I don’t know how I’ll ever make this up to you.”

Confusion crosses her face quickly. “You don’t have to make it up to me, Vetra- I did this because it meant something to you, not because I want a favor.” Her hand comes down from her face and Vetra misses the warmth, hearing her pulse in her peripheral. Instead, her other arm rises too, and she’s pulled into a hug, Maryam pulling her face against her chest and, wow, yeah, this may be how she dies. Passed away from far too much emotional stimuli, pressed into the Pathfinder’s soft chest. She nuzzles her slightly without thinking, before immediately stopping when she does think about what she’s doing. “I got the bulb in it replaced, too- I know it’s not exactly a two-person job, but since I woke you up, I thought I might as well see it get plugged in.”

Vetra’s hands shake slightly as she reciprocates the hug, feeling Maryam’s chest shake slightly as she chuckles. She loves that she can call her by her first name now. She loves how she smells- warm and sweet in a that must’ve come from her soap, and the undertones that she doesn’t have a profile for, something that must’ve been innately part of her. She loves how warm she is, how secure she feels- she’d assumed _right_ when she thought she’d feel safe in her arms.

More than anything, she loves _Maryam_.

“Or I can stay and hold you all night.” Maryam continues, feeling Vetra go somewhat slack in her arms. Vetra immediately straightens, pulling away, eyes wide and going to her’s. It's strange that her tone isn't even teasing- it sounds like a genuine proposition, and one that she actually briefly considers.

“Sorry- I was just-” She doesn’t even have an excuse for it. “Tired?” It sounds weak, even to her.

“Hey, no need to apologize. We all need a good hug sometimes.” She looks down at her with an emotion Vetra can’t place, but it’s warm and familiar. She’s still smiling. “So, about the lamp...?”

“I’ll put it on my bedside table.” Vetra says, working it out in her head. She could hook it up to the alarm programmed into the room so it’d turn on when she was supposed to wake up, and it’d suddenly earned double sentimentality from this exchange. It’d be a reminder of where she’d come from and where she was going, from now on. “A little motivation early in the morning never hurt anyone.”

“Motivation, huh?” She knows what she means, and it’s all harmless ribbing, but there’s a flirtatious edge to Ryder’s voice that she dips into sometimes. She’d heard it before, but it’s never any less jarring- the idea that her feelings might be reciprocated, but that she wasn’t brave enough to outright say anything about it. “You know, if naked asari are-”

“Spare me the joke, Maryam, please.” She’s glad the outfit covers most of her neck- but the blue still peeks out from around the top. She picks it up and heads over to her bedside, plugging it into the wall, watching the moon atop the asari’s shoulder’s flicker to life. It’s surprisingly fresh- Maryam must’ve dusted it when she replaced the bulb, too. She clicks it off, making a mental note to set up the alarm on her omni-tool later. When Vetra turns around, she’d followed her rather closely, and was barely an arm’s length away. With her visor on, Vetra can see the dark half-circles under her eyes, an indication that a human needed more rest. “Thank you again.”

“It was no problem, again.” She yawns, the excitement seeming to have faded away slightly. “I’ll let you sleep, now- you call me if you ever need anything, beloved.” She leans up again to give Vetra a hug, looping her arms around her neck and putting her head to Vetra’s chest. Vetra’s hands immediately raise to hold her, rocking her a bit- ‘beloved’ had translated strangely, which happened when non-Standard words filtered through turian translation. It didn’t seem to imply anything romantic- it seemed more platonic, but closer than casual friends.

“You know the same goes to you, Maryam. Now go get some rest- tomorrow’s going to be a long day of pathfinding, as usual.” That earns her another laugh, and her heart sings, even as Maryam waves goodbye from her door and she echoes the human movement.

“Sweet dreams.” She says, a bright smile as the door closes.

When Vetra lays down to sleep, she tosses and turns, unable to get her heart to slow down, her mind pacing endlessly with fabricated fantasies of the both of them. And, when she turns on her side to check the time, she seems the same ugly lamp that started it all, and can’t help her smile.

Oh, she was getting far too sentimental- and she didn’t think she minded at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Being lovestruck, as it turned out, wasn’t the easiest on Vetra’s sleep cycles. She’d always assumed that was something vids exaggerated on- sure, restlessness seemed reasonable, but being wholly unable to sleep? That was silly, and counterproductive. There was no reason for her body to deny itself of energy simply because she was thinking about Maryam’s _eyelashes_ , Spirits prohibit it. Yet, here she is, in the middle of a mission debriefing, her head dipping into her crest, drifting off every now and then.

Someone’s sharp and bony appendage catches her in the flank. She immediately starts, mouth separating into the sound of a warning call, only to find that, when she looks around, the room’s been vacated. Only Drack had stayed behind, looking at her with a vague amusement. “Never seen you fall asleep in one of these before.” His mouth pulls back at both edges- not quite a smile by krogan standards, but something teasing. “I thought you liked listening to the Pathfinder talk- something about ‘proving your laser-focus’?”

Vetra lets out a somewhat indignant shrill, crossing her arms. She’s only just _barely_ taller than him, which makes the little authority he wields in her life a little off-putting whenever he decided to show it. “Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night- the usual business. You know.” There was a saying about turians and lying and-

“ _You know_ you can’t lie to me. ‘Know all of your tells by now.” He lets out a frustrated sound, his shoulders hunkering down somewhat. “Listen- is it anything I need to be worried about? Some shit you got stuck to your shoe?”

“You’ve been hanging around the humans too much.” She says at his turn of phrase- it was definitely something she’d heard Liam say once or twice. She thinks on it, whether or not he should be concerned- if this... _whatever_ it was turning out to be between her and Maryam was something to be concerned with. “It doesn’t look like it’ll be any trouble, but I’ll let you know if it goes South.”

“ _Now_ who’s spending too much time with the humans?” He retorts, and she’s not sure if it’s because he knows what she’s referring to or if it’s the equally human phrase she’d used, but he gives a terse jerk of his head in dismissal and leaves her be. With the room empty, Vetra finally drops her guard and flexes her jaw and mandibles- she’d been clenching them too hard to keep herself from falling asleep, and now there was an ache under her plates. She shoves the smooth edges of her palms up and under her mandibles, trying to smooth out the tension.

“Vetra?” Maryam’s voice rings out, and she must’ve double-checked to make sure everyone left the room after making her official exit. Thoughtful. She loves how she says her name when they’re alone- all smooth vowels, a rolling ‘r’. She’s starting to think she just has a thing for Earth accents- something different from the Standard most of them spoke for the translators, something that comes across as a little friendlier, a little kinder. “Vetra, are you still here?” She feels the distant sensation of something on her back- flat, curved. Her hand.

“Sorry- I was just on my way out.” She makes an excuse, even though the Pathfinder’s tone is friendly and there’s no need to appeal to authority here. “Do you need something?”

Maryam’s hand glides over the back of her carapace, dips her fingers into the back of her carapace hood, warm and _close._ Vetra shudders, the weight and heat of her hand more than pleasant, and in a way she’s fairly certain isn’t work-appropriate. She’s about to vocalize this (maybe she’d never worked closely enough with turians to know that what she was doing wasn’t some idle friendly touch), but she’s frozen when Maryam’s arms trail over her shoulders, and she leans closer, lips (so soft that her brain feels like it’ll fizzle out) kissing the points of her crest. “I thought it was obvious, Vetra- I need _you_.”

That draws a low and terrible keen from Vetra, who finds her hands shaking as she covers Maryam’s hands with her talons, feeling the drastic difference in skin texture. “I... Ryder, not here.” But she can’t say that she doesn’t feel a definite thrill, doesn’t feel the push of excitement that she _isn’t_ ashamed of her affections towards Vetra, that she’ll put it out in such an obvious way that no one (not even Vetra herself, with those words) could misconstrue her.

Maryam lets out a giggle that she’s certain is one of the few things she’d be fine hearing before she died- just the sound of her being happy, the excitement. “Isn’t that half the thrill?” She says, but Vetra can feel her arms retreat, pull away from her with one last affectionate drag of her fingers against her throat. She tries to chase the sensation, leaning backwards towards her. “But I understand. Meet me in my quarters, then, at twenty-hundred, with the stack of reports regarding the medical inventory.”

She feels her brow plates rise in confusion. “Maryam, what are you-”

Her head roughly hits the table, waking her up almost instantly. Her mandibles hit the sides of her mouth so quickly in embarrassment that it leaves a palpable sting on her plates- her eyes skitter around to see who saw. Unimpressed, Director Tann stands over her seat, arms crossed- expectant. Somehow, she’d managed to accept a holo-call from him while completely unconscious. “Oh, yes, I’ll have the-” She pauses, if only because she can only vaguely recall her actual duties two seconds from deep REM. “I’ll have the inventory reports drawn up by the end of the week. No worries.”

He gives her a withering look that makes her skin ache in fear, pinches her plates quick and fast. _Spirits_ , had she said something embarrassing? “See to it that you do.” Vetra gives a short, curt nod, and the call ends quickly. Once she’s certain she’s alone in the meeting room and awake in the meeting room, she allows herself a quick, ‘shit shit _shit_ ’, after checking the time and finding that she’d slept in the room for a solid half hour. No wonder Director Tann was on the line- she was a restless sleeper (which made for sloppy pillow and blanket nests and a shameful bed display) and rolling over and hitting an affirmative for a call with a seeking arm looking to turn off an alarm wouldn’t be the most outlandish thing she’d done in her sleep.

But damn if it still wasn’t embarrassing.

She tries to shake it off (physically, too, in the way humans kind of wiggle themselves to dispel bad thoughts) and get back to work. It takes an easy two minutes of almost-dozing for her to decide that working from her room was a better idea, and she slumps her way over, the phantom sensations of Maryam’s hand on her skin on the back of her mind.

-

When she gets back to her room, she takes a few minutes to generally tidy up. Maryam might not have minded last night, but, on the off-chance that she ever dropped by again, Vetra would prefer her not accidentally stepping through a trail of dextro-friendly cereal crumbs. She pushes the chairs back into the table, pulls the blankets on her bed into something resembling neatness before sitting down. She pauses, considering, then throws a blanket over the headboard of the room- it’s small, but being part of the Pathfinder’s squad had earned them all some extra elbow room, which meant better beds and more room to put things. The sheet would work in disguising where she was if she needed to take a vid-call.

But no matter what she does, she’s always seeing the lamp in her peripheral. She takes a moment to steady herself, pretty startled that a lamp she’d enjoyed solely for the sheer contempt she held for it was quickly becoming something that could spike her heart rate. Sure, she had seen a decent amount of asari porn (had even preferred it over the straightforward turian kind), but, as... sculpted as the lamp was, it had never been something to make her plates ache. She’d thought it was ridiculous, obnoxious for the foreman to own, and it’d been a symbol of years of questionable morals- she wasn’t sure what changed.

Vetra leans on her side, packing a pillow under her waist to support it, staring at it. She hadn’t felt this way when she’d described the lamp to Ryder (when she’d only known her as Ryder, wouldn’t dare to call her anything other than ‘Pathfinder’), hadn’t even regarded it like this when Maryam had handed it over to her. It was an item- something she’d wanted, sure, but not something that’d solicit a response like this.

Maybe it was because it was just starting to sink in- all the confusing feelings she’d held for her, suddenly coming into bright clarity. She’d thought Maryam was attractive before, sure. She’d felt her heart slow in her chest when she regarded her, the soft emotions raising in her chest. It wasn’t really until last night that it had clicked- after all of the declarations of saying that she’d care if Vetra died, the smuggled solid dextro food she’d passed to her, the attention in the medbay... It’d taken this shitty lamp and a long, warm embrace for it to sink in.

Maryam wasn’t going anywhere- the lines were blurry as to whether she liked Vetra as a friend or as a mate. But she was still there, still caring and open to her with a smile.

A naked asari holding up a moon, looking coyly over her shoulder. “What kind of moon?” Ryder had asked, surprisingly invested. “A colony moon, or a certain phase...?”

“Earth’s moon has phases?” She’d countered- all the planets she’d ever been on, the moon had always been close enough to always be present in the sky, no matter the time of day. Every time she heard something she didn’t know about Earth, it was always something freaky and unnerving. “It was yellowed, shaped like...” Vetra curled her hand into what’d be considered a strike. Like a slice of the moon. “Like that.”

“We call that a ‘crescent’. The second phase. And the asari was holding it like...?” She’d continued, before lifting her arms up in a cradle over her head, bent slightly at the elbow. Vetra had nodded, and they’d traded banter back and forth, a few jokes about hiding it from Cora but not from Peebee, the idea of explaining it to Jaal.

In the present, though, she sees the similarities, is reminded of Maryam striking that same pose. The room darkens around her, lit solely by the lamp, casting out a hazy yellow glow. She blinks, feeling the warm, dry air of Palaven, the wind beating gently at her carapace. When she looks down, she’s still in her armor, so she’s not particularly concerned with the change in scenery. Still safe, still in control.

A naked asari holding up a moon standing in front of her. Vetra shakes her head. “Must be seeing things.” She hits the power button on her visor, forcing a hard reboot. Her vision goes blurry for a moment and, when she powers it back on, the hard edges of the nose and hips, the fringe on the head all blur. It’s a hard transition from blue to brown, but when she focuses, the person in front of her is definitely not an asari. Bad habits, bad habits, but she takes the form in from the bottom to the top, coming up to naked thighs and, panicked, her gaze jumps up to where she estimated a face should be. The shriek she lets out is untranslatable, and completely undignified. “ _Ryder?!_ ”

She’s never really gotten a good look at a fully naked human, but she’s heard gossip. Other turian smugglers, outcasts without colony markings telling her that _if you’ve seen an asari naked, hell, you’ve practically seen a human naked_. Her eyes practically shake with the effort to keep them trained on her face, then just on her eyes, keep them from the soft curve of her smile. It doesn’t stop the fact that, in her peripheral, she sees an expanse of brown skin, the swell of her breasts. When her lips move, it’s in the familiar intonation of Vetra’s name, and she doesn’t even have to listen to know what’s being said. Palaven feels like it got twenty degrees hotter.

She has to focus really hard to catch words, to let the translator do its job. “Hey Vetra.” And it looks like she’s hanging the moon in the sky- despite her best efforts, she looks down, sees the ripple of muscle under skin as she pulls it down, covers herself only slightly. Vetra doesn’t dare trace the movement, but Maryam steps forward, the ‘crescent’ moving with her, just barely covering her chest and torso, and nothing below it. She lets go of it, and it hangs in the air effortlessly. Her hand comes up to pull the band out of her hair, and it all falls down like... Vetra doesn’t have anything to compare it to. It’s such a smooth transition, and it makes her _ache_ , warm and slick and watching as her hair settles over her chest- Vetra’s never touched human hair (never been close enough or rude enough to ask to), but she wants to.

“Maryam.” She croaks out, before she can lose focus (‘laser focus’ _her_ _spurs-_  she was more distracted by Maryam than she’d ever been in her life). This is Palaven, at night, in some wide open area- no homes or nests to be seen and, while she wasn’t too well-versed in human biology, salarians and asari needed special suits just to walk around. It was no place for a non-turian to be butt naked and roaming around. “What... What are you doing here?” There’s an urge to curl over her that she almost gives into- it’s both primal instinct and rationale that she _needs_ to cover up- it’s dangerous, it’s-

Maryam leans over the moon, her black hair falling forward, and _Spirits_ what she’d give to be missing her scarf- she wonders if it’s as soft as it looks, if it’s spun fine like the asari silk she’s traded before. She’s standing on a slight incline, now just slightly taller than Vetra from the elevated height and, if she leaned down, all of her hair would pool in her cowl, on the sensitive skin on her neck. She chirrs without prompting, having to flex her hands to keep them from reaching out, pulling her closer. “Vetra, did I ever tell you...”

And she _does_. She drapes herself over the moon, suspended in the air, and cradles Vetra’s face- warm palms around her mandibles, fingertips on her face plates. The weight of her hair falls into her cowl, over her scarf, and it’s _enough_ to feel the weight of it. Her hands shake as she reaches up to cover Maryam’s, feeling her throat go so _terribly_ blue, her armor warm and uncomfortable. She wants to say something cute and coy that’ll make her swoon, but her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth and all that’s coming out is dry mouth noises.

Maryam’s thumbs smooth along her mandibles, and they flare wide- she’s not quite sure if it’s due to her arousal (never really had anyone she trusted enough to be _emotionally_ vulnerable around) or because she wants more surface area for her to touch with her warm hands. She leans in, close, her breath surprisingly cool, registering against the slightly sensitive plates of Vetra’s mouth. “Have I ever told you that _I_ want a spiky girlfriend?” And Vetra’s breath hitches, her mouth falling open in surprise, her brow plates scraping as they moved too quickly on her face.

“No, Maryam, I-” But she dives in close, her lips soft, giving against the harder plates of Vetra’s mouth. She feels like she’s plateless- like a primordial turian peeking her head out from a cave and taking in the bright, glorious sun. She reaches up to... She’s not quite sure what she intended to do, because her thoughts weren’t exactly linear, and most were simply the word ‘closer’ over and over again. There’s the nudge of something wet and firm against her mouth and, with surprise and slight apprehension, Vetra tilts her head slightly to let her tongue in her mouth, the slick sound making her legs weak. She’s careful to maneuver her tongue away from her sharp teeth, cushioning the sharper parts of her mouth with her tongue, crooning and rumbling. Maryam pulls away, despite everything, despite the heat of her mouth being so indescribably _perfect_ against her cooler plates, despite the way they _fit_ despite being theoretically incompatible.

“You were saying?” And the way she looks at her is _weakness_ , something that could take Vetra out at the knees. Gunfire and sleazy business deals were nothing to her in the face of Maryam’s slight pout and trusting, open eyes.

“I love you.” Vetra says, and she means it. _Spirits_ does she mean it more than anything- surer than the moon she hung in the sky, than the blue blood in her veins showing on her neck. She reaches with her talons, careful not to grasp too firmly, to reciprocate, holding the smooth skin of Maryam’s face in her palms, feeling her smile.

“Vetra Nyx,” She tilts her head back to where she’s almost kissing her again. “I love you too.”

They stay there, in a gentle embrace, exchanging kisses that were glancing, exploratory, but nonetheless passionate, until Vetra’s alarm blasted loud in a tritone that shook her carapace, her asari lamp programmed to light up at the same time. She bolts upwards, shaken from the hazy reality where she had curled her fingers in Maryam’s hair and gave her kisses soft enough that _she_ could barely feel them.

“Fuck.” Vetra says out loud, slamming a hand straight through the projected notification asking her if she wanted to stop the alarm. She cradles her face in her hands, pressing the flat parts of her talons to the skin around her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “ _Fuck_.”

Sentimentality was old, familiar. Being in love, as it turned out, was a completely different experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote this entire fic because of this art [here](http://saltysalmonella.tumblr.com/post/159240722930/i-cant-believe-someone-hasnt-made-a-shitty-joke).
> 
> Now I can finally rest in peace.
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? Send them to [kamalasfanfiction](kamalasfanfiction.tumblr.com)


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